


Season for Treason

by daroh



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:18:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroh/pseuds/daroh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur and Merlin would rather not hunt for a sorcerer during a lengthy heat wave, despite Uther's orders. First fanfic, one-shot, certainly silly, probably crack, hopefully enjoyable. Arthur & Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Season for Treason

“ _Mer_ lin!!  It’s _tooooooooo_ hot!”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Merlin asked, a growing ring of sweat darkening the mouth of his shirt.  His throat glistened, his exhaustion palpable as he put what remaining energy he had into piling Arthur’s pillows at the head of the bed.  Arthur sat across the room, his feet on the table, head back, mouth agape, unable to bear the scorching temperatures. 

Camelot had been suffering a heat wave for weeks.  It was going on so unnaturally long, with effects so unfathomably debilitating, that Uther had decreed it the work of magic. 

“My father must be right—this is too hot for words.  The sun wouldn’t be this cruel on its own.”

If only it were magic, Merlin thought, I might be able to put an end to it.  Instead, he merely sighed and wiped his brow for the hundredth time in an hour.  “So how are you going to find the supposed sorcerer responsible?”

“Me?  I’m not going out there!  Do you have any idea how hot it is?  Wearing armor would be like wearing an oven, and I’m too precious to the kingdom not to be wearing protective gear.”

Merlin rolled his tired eyes.  “Is that so, prat?” 

“ _Mer_ lin, don’t even start.”

“Why?  Are you going to actually get up and fight back?  Oh, wait, you wouldn’t—not without your armor.  Not that you could put it on yourself anyway.”

With an angry jerk Arthur hurled his cup in the direction of Merlin’s head, but it fell short. 

“Ha!  Arthur’s been defeated by the weather!  Don’t let word get out!  Camelot can be had by tossing mild insults at the prince!”

“Fine!” Arthur whined, getting up to ready for the hunt.  “But if I’m going on this ridiculous search in this ridiculous heat, you are most certainly coming with me.  And you’d better figure out a plan—fast.  One more unhelpful word from you and I’ll have you finish your half of this conversation from the courtyard.”

*****

Reluctantly, Merlin dragged his sopping body out of the castle.  By the time he found himself in the nearest clearing in the forest, he had his neckerchief tied round his head, his sleeves and trousers rolled above elbow and knee.  His socks and boots he had left behind with the stone pathways.

With the same desperation but far less oomph than usual, he called The Great Dragon, who was understandably slow in responding to so weak a summons and in the stifling air heavy with moisture. 

Clearly annoyed at the long wait, Merlin wasted no time in getting to his demands.  “Kilgarrah, you have to help us.  This heat wave is too much!  I won’t give Arthur the satisfaction of knowing it’s too hot for me, but it just is.  It’s like living inside your breath!  Uther suspects a sorcerer.”

“Young warlock, breathing fire doesn’t mean I want to live in it.  Camelot is like Hades thanks to this heat.  If this were the work of a sorcerer, I’d have killed him myself by now.”

“And I’d have thanked you,” Merlin said, slightly discouraged by the dragon’s answer.  “So…what do we do?  There must be something.”

The dragon let out a long, tired sigh. 

“Hey!” Merlin protested.  “It’s hot enough without your breath added to this boiling air!”

“ _You_ called _me_ , remember?” Kilgarrah responded with obvious irritation and a scoffed “Dragonlord” at the end.

“Did you just call me a prat?!”  Merlin asked in some disbelief.  “Nevermind.  Look, this heat is obviously getting to _everyone_.  What do we do?”

“Unfortunately, we must wait it out, like everyone else.”

They both sighed, then sneered, then parted ways—like ships through molasses.

*****

“Arthur, this can’t be a sorcerer.  You must know that.”

 “Oh, thank gods.  I really don’t want to go anywhere,” Arthur said, collapsing into the chair from which he had only just peeled himself.  “How do we get out of this blasted search, though?”

 “I have an idea.” 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, wondering why Merlin insisted on never following that sentence with an actual idea.  “Which is?”

 “You’re not going to like it.”

Ah.  The sentence that always followed.

“In fact,” Merlin went on, “it may be best if you just leave that to me.  Trust me”

Arthur cocked his head in vague disbelief and amusement, though he did, admittedly, trust Merlin.  He didn’t necessarily think it was wise of him to do so, but having just soaked through his third and thinnest linen shirt of the day, he was too relieved by the idea of staying in the relative cool of the castle to argue.

“I’ll be right back,” Merlin said, reading the clear resignation in Arthur’s body language and knowing he would like, regardless of how much it meant Merlin dealing with the king, to be excused from doing _any_ thing. 

*****

“Gaius, how much longer is this heat wave supposed to last?” Merlin asked, trying to seem nonchalant but failing miserly.

“Unfortunately, four more days, Merlin, according to my instruments and the predictions of healers in town.”

“Hmm.  Any chance you can work up a potion to make someone sleep for four days, waking up without any ill effects?”

“Merlin, I understand your not wanting to be conscious during this awful heat, but really, induced sleep?  What would Arthur do without you for four days?  You’d be missed, and I’m not about to be executed for drugging the prince’s favorite servant.”

“It’s not for me,” Merlin answered. 

It was Gaius who now marveled at Merlin’s never elaborating on sentences that clearly called for it.  “Whom is it for, then?” he asked, as if of a small, rather dim-witted child.

“Um, an old man in the town.  He’s suffering unbearably from the heat.  It’s making him delusional.”

“Who is this man?”

Thoughtful pause, dueling gazes.

“Uther.”

“Uther?!  Merlin!  I will not help you drug the king!”

“Please, Gaius?  He’s making Arthur and me track down the sorcerer responsible for this.  It’s cruel enough just having to cross the courtyard to go from Arthur’s quarters to yours to even ask!  If Uther is asleep, we can all just sit with our feet in buckets of water until this heat is gone.  He’ll wake up, think we caught the sorcerer, and all will be well!”

Gaius considered this.  He was suffering more than anyone beneath those muumuus.  “All right, Merlin.  I would prefer to not be called up to the council chambers every half hour to answer questions about ‘what kind of cruel sorcery’ this is.” 

After opening vials, measuring liquids, heating the substance (which seemed redundant to Merlin) and swirling it around, Gaius capped a small tube and handed it over.  “Just see to it that neither of us is caught for this.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, Gaius.  I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Somehow those words and that smile, bright even after the endless perspiration of the last week, were not really reassuring to Gaius, but like Arthur, he was willing to let Merlin do what he would.  Consequences could hopefully wait until the heat broke.

*****

 Having mingled the potion with the wine in Uther’s goblet at dinner and watched him drink it (Gaius said Uther would feel sleepy about a half hour after ingesting it, so no suspicious-looking forehead plow into his dinner plate), Merlin made his way back to Arthur’s room with several pitchers of water.  As the prince wasn’t there yet, Merlin took the opportunity to magically cool the water by several hopefully-noticeable-but-not-suspiciously-so degrees.  He filled two buckets and pulled a chair a up to each, then poured two cups of cider, which he’d also brought from the kitchen. 

When Arthur came in, Merlin grinned broadly, rather proud of himself for all he had arranged and looking forward to relaxing with a cool drink.  Surely the prince would be grateful enough for being spared the useless hunt in the heat—and for the way Merlin had prepared the room—to let the servant cool his feet, too. 

“By the way, Merlin,” Arthur added sometime after making him take off his Arthur’s boots, roll up his trouser legs, and swirl the water about his shins, “how do you know my father won’t notice that no patrol went out for the sorcerer?”

Merlin’s eyebrows rose and fell in rapid succession, his eyes fixed on the floor.  “Let’s just say he won’t be noticing much of anything for a little while.”  His gaze then went coyly from the floor to Arthur’s face, not knowing quite what it would meet.  Luckily, Arthur looked vaguely mischievous himself.  “What is he doing?”

“He’s….asleep,” Merlin smiled.

“Asleep?  And that’s it?  He’s fine?”

“The heat has really exhausted him, and he’s not so concerned about the sorcerer anymore.” 

“And…?”

“Arthur, just enjoy your cider!”

Though he wondered just how natural this sleep was and what Merlin had actually done, Arthur realized he’d rather not know. He trusted that his servant wouldn’t seriously harm the king.  Truth be told, Arthur wasn’t so much concerned with what Merlin had done to get the king off their backs as he was with how little he cared at the moment.  The cool of the room was what he’d been desperate for, and Merlin had arranged it that he could spend the rest of this heat wave as any sane prince would:  with shade, refreshments, and an admittedly entertaining companion to boss around. 

Truth be told, Merlin wondered why he hadn’t really used this sleeping trick on Arthur before to avoid, well, all kinds of pointless tasks.

“You’re right, Merlin.”  Arthur raised his cup, adding, “To cooling off!”  He brought the goblet to his lips but suddenly, eyes wide with enlightenment, grabbed Merlin’s instead and drank deeply. 

Merlin considered him with a mix of confusion, amusement, and anxiety. 

“I may be looking to escape this heat wave myself, but I won’t have you putting me to sleep, too!  An unsupervised _Mer_ lin is the last thing we’d want to unleash on Camelot.”  Arthur drank again.  “And another thing: If you ever do try to give me a sleeping draught or anything else, I will have you promptly executed.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Merlin protested.  Arthur’s perturbed gaze unshaken, he added, “I understand, sire….  Now can I have my cider, prat?”

Arthur audibly scoffed, rather amused.  He handed Merlin the untouched cup.  “Here.  You drink the questionable one.  Let’s find out your fate, anyway.”

They drank long into the evening, Merlin only occasionally wondering just how they would explain a four-day nap to Uther when he finally woke up.  One crisis at a time, though; one crisis at a time. 

 


End file.
